


We've Got Tonight

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My contribution to the reaction!fic from episode 4X14.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We've Got Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [over on Tumblr](http://missbeizy.tumblr.com/post/43152773118/weve-got-tonight-reaction-fic-kurt-blaine).

"King sized bed?" Blaine asks, eyelids heavy, unable to take the grin off of his face because Kurt's hand is around his tie and yeah—he's never been surer of anything in his life, and he knows that Kurt knows it.

Kurt pulls him in by the tie and kisses him, smiling sassily, shoulders twitching in a barely-there shrug. "Best laid plans." And there's no hesitation there at all. Blaine grins and Kurt grins and they kiss, wet and fast and familiar, all the way across the room.

It feels good. Good is an understatement, really, but it fits; everything about this is right but it's not the emotional mess or the intense up and down that Blaine had dreaded it might be. From the moment they'd seen each other Kurt had been confident and comfortable and Blaine had known, just known, that the attraction between them was alive and well and bubbling just below the surface, and that neither of them would bother denying that, at the very least.

Once he'd realized that they could just slide back into that comfortable physical space with abandonment and lighthearted banter, his heart had fucking soared. This was the way back for them; this told Blaine everything that he needed to know. Kurt maybe hadn't forgiven him or even approached the idea of doing so, but the bond is still there. Kurt's affection for him is still there. And that is all that matters.

Kurt smirks, and turns him by his tie, and walks him backward until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sits, and he knows he's beaming stupidly but he just can't stop. His heart is racing and his pants feel tight and Kurt is between his knees and it's the most alive he's felt in...he can't even say.

The residual tension from their extended make-out in the car comes roaring back to the forefront. He runs his hands up Kurt's torso, pressing his face into Kurt's stomach, hands reaching for his belt. It seems like a miracle that this is the second time today that he's got to do that.

Pants loosened, Kurt kisses him, and guides him back against the bed, and they wriggle upward toward the pillows without breaking contact. 

Blaine pushes Kurt's pants off, but as soon as that's done Kurt takes his hands and pins them above his head and kisses him hard and fast. He finishes what Blaine had started, stripping off his clothes and then Blaine's. They pant and laugh the entire time, frantically kissing skin as it appears, then giving up when there's just too much of it and attacking each other's mouths instead.

It doesn't take long to reach the point they had in the car, Blaine's fingers tight on Kurt's back, Kurt hands skimming shakily over Blaine's neck and chest and face.

They're both hard in their underwear and god, Blaine doesn't think that there is anything hotter in the world than a guy hard and panting and rocking on top of you, especially when that person is Kurt. He can feel his eyes roll back in his head at a particularly well-aimed grind, and Kurt laughs as he groans.

"Tease," he whines, sliding one knee up, which Kurt immediately takes advantage of by putting one hand behind his knee and hoisting that leg over Kurt's hip.

"I am all for speeding this up if you are," Kurt breathes, fingers clawing down Blaine's sides to the edge of the waistband of his underwear.

"God, yes," Blaine groans, hand flying instinctively to the nightstand—forgetting that they're not at home. "Shit." He knocks over the tissue box there, distracted because Kurt is sucking at his neck, tongue and teeth and god he needs to stop because they need to find something because he needs Kurt, like, yesterday.

Kurt finally notices his flailing and removes himself from Blaine’s throat. "Drawer," he murmurs, and goes back to sucking wet kisses into Blaine's collarbone.

There is a fat tube of lubricant in the drawer.

Blaine's thoughts stutter, and he arches up as Kurt's mouth trails wetly down his chest and stomach. "You put this...?"

Kurt looks up at him from his stomach; eyes blazing blue, face flushed red, friction burn from his top lip to his nose. He doesn't even need to say anything. The wicked curve of his lip and the hot burn in his eye tells Blaine everything he needs to know. He just buries his face against Blaine's cotton-encased erection and kiss-bites against it. His breath is hot and his kisses without hesitation.

"Fuck," Blaine hisses, wrapping one hand around the back of Kurt's neck. "Can't wait. Kurt, please." Kurt had put that there. Kurt had known that they might end up back here together, had known that Blaine would want—would need—had maybe even wanted it to happen beforehand, had thought about bringing Blaine back here and having him, alone and fast and—

"All good things," Kurt growls, kissing and sucking at Blaine through his underwear until Blaine is thrashing, hands in Kurt's hair and back arched off the bed.

"Please," he gasps. "Don't want anything else." Kurt's fingers curl his underwear down his legs, and he gasps at the cool air touching his overheated skin. "Just want you. Just want you in me.”

"Gimme," Kurt gasps, taking the tube from Blaine's hand and dropping it in his haste. He grabs it again, flipping the cap smoothly with his thumb and somehow managing to squeeze out a handful with only one hand.

Blaine watches, aching, throbbing, dying, wanting it so badly. "Come here," he asks, and he doesn't even have to clarify, Kurt knows what he wants; Kurt climbs back up his body, kissing him, and Blaine wraps one leg around his waist and bends the other out and up so that Kurt's fingers can reach—

"Kurt," he sobs, as those fingers, slick and long, massage just behind his balls and then find him, hot and clenching between his cheeks. "Oh fuck yes please, please, don't go slow don'

"Shh," Kurt hisses, gentling him with kisses, stroking his hair and neck. "Easy. Easy." Blaine exhales, tries to relax, and feels his body give a little. "That's better. Yeah, just like that." Kurt's fingers turn and press and push, and it would've been easier if they'd taken the time, maybe if Blaine had come first, but—

"Kurt," he breathes, unable to stop saying the same, loving the way it feels on his tongue, in his throat. "Kurt, Kurt—god—" He frantically roots around in the drawer, his fingers finding the sharp square shape that he's looking for. He pushes the condom into Kurt's hand, and Kurt groans and rips it open between their bellies, scattering foil.

"Ready?" Kurt asks, breathlessly, trying to be smooth about putting the condom on but you can never be, really. Blaine kind of likes it, that little wriggle Kurt does to get the pinched tip firmly on his the head of his cock, the way he shivers as he rolls the latex down.

"Yes," he pants, twisting his fingers in Kurt's hair and pulling him down into a long kiss. He loves wrapping his legs around Kurt's waist, loves scrabbling his fingers up and over Kurt's shoulder blades, loves the way that Kurt’s wide, long masculine body makes him feel small. "Don't go slow. Just—do it, okay?"

"Not a problem," Kurt whispers against his jaw. He positions himself and Blaine curves into it, knowing exactly how he needs to set his hips for this to work, knowing exactly the dimensions of their bodies and how they fit together.

It's a lot. It's been—a long time. Early on he'd tried to do this for himself when he'd been lonely and aching, but it had never been the same. The toys were cold and impersonal and the angle was wrong and—without Kurt, it had felt like next to nothing.

This is what he's been missing, needing all this time—Kurt's smell and Kurt's sweat and Kurt's hands and Kurt's beautiful cock. He holds onto Kurt tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him, Kurt's breath coming hard against his neck as they slowly, slowly come together.

"Fuck," Kurt hisses.

Kurt almost never cursed before, and this, here and now—

"Kurt," he moans, neck bending back as he leans his head against the pillows.

The bed creaks as Kurt bottoms out, gasping against his skin. "Blaine," he whimpers.

Someone about his name on those lips after so long—

He can feel tears well up behind his eyes, and they are pure fucking joy. There isn't a sad or bittersweet thought in his mind; everything is just a wash of ecstasy, bright and clear.

Kurt pulls out, and pushes back in, and Blaine closes his teeth around Kurt's ear and huffs out a breath and then it starts, really starts, the sweet push pull of a thick cock tugging at every hollow and bend of his body, a burn as he's stretched and a sweet flare as he's filled up, and Kurt is holding him.

"Yeah, just—there, just like that, god, Blaine—"

"Missed you," Blaine whimpers, brokenly. "Missed you so fucking much."

"Me too," Kurt gasps, sounding a little far away, as his hips snap and the bed shakes and Blaine just opens up for him. "The way you feel, god, the way you feel..."

They take their time, though it passes strangely; one moment it seems as if Kurt has been inside of him for hours, the next it feels like too brief a time, and he doesn't want it to end.

"Blaine," Kurt growls, arching up above him, miles of milky skin and wiry muscle and love bites and scratches scattered everywhere. He looks fucking amazing.

Blaine doesn't even care about himself; he stares, enthralled, as Kurt grabs the headboard with one hand and pounds into him, hard and fast, chest heaving with the effort.

He runs his hands up Kurt's sweat-slick, scratched back, in awe of how beautiful Kurt is. He watches Kurt's slender hips pumping between his legs, watches the curl of Kurt's toes so far down the bed.

"Come, it's okay," he whispers, "come on, come on, baby—"

Kurt cries out and tenses, back arching, and he comes, a smile stretching his open mouth into a curve, and he laughs and gasps and laughs some more, and then collapses on top of Blaine in a mess of slick skin and heat.

Blaine wraps him up in an embrace, laughing with him—and then gasps when Kurt's hand finds him between their bellies. He's still inside when he starts pulling at Blaine's cock, still half-hard when Blaine gets closer. It feels so fucking good that Blaine doesn't even bother trying to last.

"Don't stop," he gasps, going still, focusing on it, as Kurt watches his face with a focus so intense that that in and of itself is almost enough to tip him over the edge. He comes into the silence between them, head back, spine bent, hips writhing as he works Kurt's cock inside of him, spurting wet rushes all over his stomach and chest and thighs.

Kurt grins, and laughs again, turning his sweaty, hot cheek against Blaine's. "God," he breathes, kissing Blaine's slack mouth. He uses several tissues to clean Blaine off, then wraps the condom in them and tosses that on the nightstand, along with the tube of lubricant. "This has to go," he announces, stripping the bedspread (which is a damp, sticky mess) off of the bed. They tumble in each other’s arms to accomplish that goal, grinning and struggling with the heavy blanket.

They make themselves comfortable under the sheets, and the room begins to feel a lot cooler. Blaine's body is buzzing, stretched open and all Kurt’s. He grins, closing his eyes and just breathing, inhaling the scent of male, and sweat, and Kurt's cologne.

And there's no need to say anything, really.

They can talk later.


End file.
